Take A Sad Song
by Sonny13
Summary: Hearing thoughts wasn't the most interesting thing about Stella, at least as far as she was concerned. There was more to her than reading minds, and one day she would prove it. Stiles/OC
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Hey guys. Just thought I'd get this one out there. I've got a bunch of chapters ready to go. I adore Stiles and this was an idea that just would go away. Hope you_ enjoy!**

_This chemistry final is gonna be brutal._

_Jackson looks so hot in that green sweater today._

_Dad had better get me on time today, there's no way I can miss my date with Troy._

_Debra's gonna kill me when she finds out about Stacy._

Stella put her hands to her temples, squinting against the pain blossoming in her head. She was usually able to block out the voices and keep the pain at bay, but some days she just couldn't concentrate. It felt like everyone was screaming at her.

It was the last day of the school and there were mere hours between her and summer vacation. She was hunched in the shade of a tree, trying to get through a chapter of the first book on her reading list before her free period was up. She sighed in defeat and discretely grabbed a couple of migraine pills out of the front pocket of her old back pack. She washed them down with a mouthful of the now-flat lemonade she'd gotten at lunch and reluctantly slipped on her horrendous reading glasses.

She tried to focus back on the words on the page, but more voices invaded her mind.

_Is she wearing a Nirvana shirt? I bet she can't even name a single song._

_I can't believe Sue would wear a Batman shirt to school._

_I hope that fro-yo place is open on Fridays._

_God, I just want to rip his pants off and-_

"Holy crap!" Stella exclaimed in shock at the vivid images that shot across her mind, comin

Junior.

"What?!" a new voice questioned loudly. She threw her head around wildly until she locked eyes with a boy she hadn't realised approached sitting on the grass a few paces from her.

"Oh, uh," she looked down at her things, her mind spinning frantically to come up with a good answer. "Um, there was a spider."

The boy's brown eyes widened slightly before he seemed to realise his reaction and pulled himself together, shrugging nonchalantly. "Oh, is it gone?"

"Yeah," she nodded awkwardly, shooting him a friendly smile before turning back to her book. If she'd known today was going to be so bad she'd have charged her mp3 player to help block out the noise.

"I'm uh, I'm Stiles," he stuttered clumsily, seeming unsure of himself. She glanced back up again but said nothing, waiting for him to continue. "Is anyone sitting here? I mean obviously I am, but is anyone, besides me, sitting here? Were you saving it for a friend or..."

She watched him babble with amusement, wondering if she should cut in. Finally she put him out of his misery, speaking up before he had an aneurysm. "No, it's fine. You can sit there."

She smiled again in what she hoped was reassurance. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying anything else. "Name?"

She tilted her head, giving up on reading and gently closing her book, focusing her attention on the awkward boy before her instead.

_Jesus, I'm such an idiot. Talk much moron?_

She pressed her lips together to contain her laughter and helped him out. "I'm Stella," she told him with a kind smile. He blinked, seeming to not know what else to say. She waited but he kept his mouth firmly closed, looking around the courtyard awkwardly. "You're in my English class, right?"

"Yeah!" he nodded enthusiastically, his face lighting up at my recognition. "You sit in the back corner." She paused, narrowing her eyes cautiously. He paled slightly and swallowed nervously, his thought betraying his anxiety. "Okay, it's weird that I know that."

"Is there something you needed?" she asked politely, listening to him scramble to piece this words together in his head.

"Yes. Uh, I was wondering if I could borrow your copy of the reading list," he muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, um, misplaced mine."

Her lips twitched up humorously and she nodded in agreement, leafing through the book in front of her until she found the loose green paper with the list on it. She handed it over and watched as he copied down the book titles on a fresh page in his notebook. "We're only going to be quizzed on the first four, the other six are just the teacher's attempt at making us well-read."

He snapped his head up and smiled gratefully. "Cool. Thanks." He handed back the sheet and she slipped it back between random pages of her book. She glanced at her watch as she put the old thing back in her bag, her heart dropping into her stomach as she saw the time.

"Crap," she cursed, looking up at the boy apologetically. "I'm running late. I should go."

"Oh," he mumbled, his thoughts reflecting his disappointment. She was touched that he wanted to spend more time with her, and any other day she might take another few minutes to chat with him.

_Who am I kidding? I'll never have anything normal. Stupid werewolves._

She remembered him clearly now. A few moths ago someone in her English class started become weirdly obsessed with werewolves, as in it was all he would think about. The obsession cooled off to a point where he was almost annoyed with the werewolves populating the school. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with all the going ons of the little group. Wolves, hunters, kanimas; it was all so confusing. She did everything in her power to stay out of trouble, so if someone thought _werewolf_ she went the other way.

Now though things seemed to be calming down. As far as she could tell the kanima thing was gone, leaving regular old Jackson in its wake, though even he was moving to a whole other country in the next few weeks. Erica and Boyd were gone, even if nobody seemed to know were they were. With the positive way things were going, she didn't see why she had to give this sweet guy the cold shoulder.

"Hey, are you going to Carry Farmer's birthday party tomorrow night?"

Stiles blinked in up at her in surprise, floundering for a moment to come up with an appropriate response. "Oh, uh, I was thinking about it."

_I am if you are._

Her lips twitched and she had to beat down the wide grin threatening to spread across her lips. "She's a friend of mine," she told him, swinging her bag onto her shoulder and glancing down at him kindly. "Maybe I'll see you there?"

"Maybe you will," he replied, blinking rapidly. She wondered if there was something in his eye, but his thoughts betrayed his awkwardness.

With a soft smile, she gave him an awkward salute of her own and stepped onto the curb, looking both ways before making her way across the road. The walk back to the house allowed her to clear her head. Storm clouds were building over head and she couldn't wait for a storm. The deafening sound of thunder was the only time she could escape peoples thoughts without complete seclusion. Music helped a bit, but it wasn't nearly as effective.

It took her a good half an hour to get home. She swung the small metal gate open, strolling up the stones that lead to the front door. She stepped onto the porch just as the clouds gave way to the rain. She glanced to her right and saw the old pick up truck was sitting in the driveway, meaning her foster parents were home. She wiped her feet on the mat and walked inside.

"I'm home," she called out, checking the time. She inwardly cursed when she saw she was eight minutes late. Sometimes she wished her foster mother wasn't so strict.

"And what time do you call this?" Jenny Hurley's screeching voice echoed off the plain white walls. The woman herself appeared a moment later, pick apron tied over a grey pant suit, her black hair pulled back immaculately.

"Sorry," Stella mumbled, ducking her head and hoping she'd be able to hide out in her room for the rest of the day. She was being swarmed with thoughts full of disapproval and it was giving her a headache.

Jenny threw her hands up in the air and Stella saw they were covered in flour and winced. She only backed when she was in a bad mood. Her pink painted lips scrunched up crossly before parting, only for her to be cut off by the loud call of her cheery husband. "There's the princess! I was wondering where you'd got to."

The large man stepped through the garage doorway, still wiping motor oil off his hands with a dirty rag, an ear-splitting grin on his lips. "Hey Will," Stella greeted, genuinely happy. For the billionth time she asked herself how such a lovely person could fall for such a miserable bitch. Jenny's thoughts were nothing but annoyance and hate, while Will's were pure kindness and love. Being around the two of them at the same time just about gave her whiplash.

"How'd your History final go?" he asked, leaning against the wall and smiling at his scowling wife.

"Pretty good," she told him, omitting the part where she picked the answers from the teacher's brain while he looked over the answer sheet.

"Do you have any homework?" the wicked witch of the west interrupted before he could say any more.

"Uh, no," Stella said, brows crinkling in confusion. At the suspicious glare sent her way she elaborated. "It's summer vacation now, all I have is my reading list. But I have three months to get that done."

Jenny's hands found their home at her hips and the ugly frown on her pretty features deepened. "Well then you'd best get a start."

Knowing there was no point in arguing she simply nodded and scurried up the stairs, wishing she would get that moment of piece she'd wished for so hard.


	2. Chapter 2

"Can I get you another drink?" a deep voice asked and she turned from where she was admiring the art on her friend's wall to look at the drunk senior that spoke.

_What I wouldn't give to get in those pants._

"Not a chance in hell," she dead-panned after hearing his lustful thoughts. Without acknowledging him further she made her way down the hallway, trailing her hand along the wall. She frowned at the glass of coke in her hand, wishing it was something stronger. Unfortunately last time she got drunk in public she began letting slip that she could read minds, so after that incident she stayed far away from the stuff.

Her phone vibrated in the front pocket of her jeans and she took it out, swiping open the lock to read the text.

**_Make good choices!_ **

She smiled at her foster father's goofy personality and slipped the phone back in her pocket. She looked around awkwardly, wondering where Carry was hiding. Just as she thought this, Carry's best friend April ran around the corner. "Stella!" she called, waving a perfectly manicured hand to get her attention. With nowhere to run, she had no choice but to grin and bear it. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she approached, towering of a converse-clad Stella. "Crazy party tonight, huh?" Stella just nodded in agreement, looking out at the sea of grinding teens. She felt more than heard the switch the girls mind made as she began buttering her up. "Lovely... pants?" she posed the compliment like a question, and Stella looked down at her favourite red jeans, wondering what was wrong with them. "So listen, we've run out of ice. Could you be a doll and run to the store to get some?" Stella opened her mouth to tell her she didn't have a car, but the perky redhead was already halfway across the room. "Thanks!"

She sighed, wondering for the millionth time why she maintained friendships with people she knew for a fact had zero respect for her. It was hurtful to hear the scathing, negative thoughts about herself but if she didn't ignore it, she'd never have any friends. If her ability taught her anything, it was that everyone was an asshole underneath it all. With a scowl she threw her empty cup on the ground and turned on her heel, wondering if she had enough money for a taxi as she made her way outside. Her stomach dropped as she realised she hadn't been given any money to buy it with, meaning it had to come out of her own pocket.

She grabbed her birth father's old leather jacket from where it'd been dropped from the coat stand, sliding it on and making her way to the driveway, looking around for anyone she knew who had a car.

She heard him before she saw him, she was humbled to hear he was thinking about how much he liked her hair when it was down. Her chest warmed and she turned to look at him before he announced himself, making him start in surprise. "Hi Stiles."

"Hey," he greeted, crossing his arms against the cold and staring at her for a stretch. She looked between he and a shaggy-haired boy at his side whose thoughts were centred on Alison Argent and her trip to Paris. "Oh," Stiles blinked rapidly and gestured to his friend. "Uh, this is my best friend Scott."

Stella nodded at him with a small smile, but the kid barely noticed he was so lost the the wirlwind of his thoughts.

"Are you leaving already?"

Stella's brow furrowed in confusion, but she realised how she must have looked, standing outside all alone. "Oh, no. I'm on ice duty," she told him, snuggling deeper into her jacket. "Or I would be, if I could find a ride."

His thoughts jumped eagerly, and she was pleased to see he wasn't thinking of way to get her alone, but rather was happy to be helping a 'damsel in distress'. She ached to correct him, tell him she was no damsel and was most certainly not in distress. However doing so would cause confusion and questions she couldn't handle, should she want to stay in this town.

"Well I have a car," Stiles told her hurriedly, flashing his keys at her triumphantly. "I can give you a ride."

Scott's thoughts flared with panic, not wanting to be left alone. She took pity on the heartbroken boy and shook her head. "You can't leave your friend alone."

"No, really it's fine," the energetic boy assured, stepping up and gesturing to a Jeep parked on the opposite side of the road. "I insist."

Torn, she looked hesitantly at Scott who nodded at her to go on, looking withdrawn and defeated. She didn't want to be unkind, but his depressive thoughts were starting to give her a headache. "Sorry," she told him, biting back giving her sympathies to the sad werewolf. "Have a nice night." He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. Stiles called her name from the door of his Jeep and with a final wave to Scott she hurried after him.

Once she'd slipped into the passenger seat beside Stiles, he turned the heat all the way up and gave her a grin. "Where to?"

_It's so great to help a normal human with normal human problems for once._

Stella felt gilt inch her way into her gut, but she pushed it back and focused on the conversation at hand. "Just the closest gas station will be fine."

He nodded and turned down the street, heading for the main road. "So you're friends with Carry, huh?" he asked casually, his eyes glued to the road.

Stella shrugged, but realising he couldn't see spoke aloud. "I guess."

"You guess?" he asked, slowing at a stop sign but not completely stopping. For someone with the Sheriff as a father he didn't seem to care much for the rules. She supposed it made sense, her foster mother was so strict all she wanted to do some days was rebel; buy a motorbike, or get a tattoo.

She pursed her lips, wondering how to explain her relationship with the girl. "You know those friends you have that you're not super close to? As in, you wouldn't really invite them over for thanksgiving but you also don't want them to get hit by a truck?"

Stiles was silent while he processed what she'd just said and she heard humour colour his thoughts before he burst out laughing so hard she was momentarily concerned he'd crash. She wondered what she'd said that was funny, she was just being honest. She felt like she might have been a little harsh, so she quickly elaborated.

"It's more of a give-take relationship. As in I give and she takes," Stella admitted, looking out her window and into the dark sky, wishing the street lights weren't so bright. She'd give anything to be able to see the stars. Stiles quickly sobered at her words and she worried she'd gotten too serious too fast and continued in hope of rectifying it. "It's not a bad thing, that's just who she is. I don't really need close friendship anyway. I mean, it's not-" she cut herself off, wishing she didn't have to put her foot in her mouth all the time. "What I'm trying to say is, we're not that close."

Stiles was silent for a moment, and she tried as hard as she could to block out his thoughts, but she heard them anyway; as clear as if they were playing on the radio. He didn't think she was weird, he mostly just felt sorry for her. To be honest, she'd prefer the former. "I know you don't sit with her at lunch. Who do you sit with?"

"Oh, I sit outside," she told him, surprised by his change of topic. His thoughts nearly turned sympathetic again, so she hurried to explain. "It's by choice though, don't worry. I'm not some kind of social leper," she tried to joke. His lips twitched but he otherwise remained expressionless. "I like the peace and quiet."

The further away she got from people, the quieter their voices became. Sitting in the crowded cafeteria gave her a migraine. She was glad it was summer now and she got to get away from all the big crowds. Even medium sized parties like Carry's were painful.

Stiles said nothing, internally repeating everything she had said. He felt admiration at her honesty, and she snuggled deeper into the seat bashfully. "Thanks for driving me by the way."

"Anything for a damsel in distress," he spared a moment to wink at her. She laughed and shook her head at him, grateful at his ability to lighten to mood so easily.

She pursed her lips, wondering what to say next. "So what's your deal?"

"My deal?"

_Yeah, your deal, _she wanted to say. _You, the boy who runs with wolves._

Instead she hummed affirmatively and waited for an answer, seeing how he would interpret her question.

"Uh, I'm a Gemini, my favourite band is All Time Low, I love nachos and one time I locked myself in my dad's handcuffs and couldn't get them off for over 24 hours."

"Interesting," Stella nodded slowly, rubbing her thumb across her lip thoughtfully. "But not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"Well who are you? Underneath all that superficial crap? Take away the witty sarcasm and jokes, what do you have?"

Stiles was silent for a long moment, thinking over the question. Stella second-guessed herself at his hesitance, shrinking into her seat in embarrassment. Why did she always put her foot in her mouth and make people uncomfortable? For someone who could hear thoughts she was terrible at reading social cues. "Man, you sure are direct."

"Sorry," she apologised instantly, shaking her head so her hair draped over her face, hiding behind it shyly.

"Don't be," the kind boy told her, flashing her a quick smile before turning his eyes back to the road. "I like it. It's refreshing being around such honesty."

She heard his thoughts run over the last few months, everything about the werewolves and kanima and hunters and everything in-between. She blinked from the strength of his stress and sadness about the whole thing. "You had a rough year huh?"

"How'd you figure?"

"I'm good at reading people," she admitted. Understatement of the century. Stiles nodded, staring as far ahead as his headlights illuminated, chewing the inside of his cheek anxiously. She knew from experience that getting involved in other people's problems never ended well. Then again, she'd never been so close to such serious issues. The worst it usually got was someone stealing money from their job or a cheating Husband, if she was really unlucky, the odd vampire would breeze into town. This wasn't the small werewolf problem it had started out as. If she was correct, there was an alpha pack about to move into the city, which she knew would only end badly. She was starting to feel guilty for staying out of it when she knew she could probably help. Resolving to help in just a small way, she figured she'd start with the boy beside her. "Listen," she began, and Stiles tensed like only bad news could possibly follow. "Whatever happened this past year, it probably sucked and took a lot out of you. My advice, if you even want it, is that you take these next few months for yourself."

Again Stiles was silent for a prolonged beat, before replying, "What do you mean?"

"De-stress," she instructed, keeping her eyes on the pitch darkness on the other side of the window. "Learn to love life again. Wipe your slate clean and be ready to start the school year after summer with a fresh mindset."

"Thanks Dr Phil," he snorted, shaking his head in exasperation. She could hear him going over her words in his head; how he resonated with what she said and really took it to heart.

"Mock all you want," she smirked leaning back in the seat and looking over at him unabashedly. His lips twitched up and he suppressed a chuckle as he pulled into the gas station, the car being lit up by the harsh lighting. Once he'd pulled into a park Stella swung open the door and hopped out, surprised when Stiles mirrored her action. "I'm a big girl, I can handle buying some ice on my own you know."

"Haha," he said dryly, shoving his hands in his pockets and strolling into the store beside her. "I want a Mars Bar."

Stella pressed her lips together, cursing her running mouth. As they entered the station they were hit with the dry, too-cold air conditioning. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the cool air hitting the back of her throat. She headed over to the freezer while Stiles walked over to the candy display. They met back up at the counter, ice and chocolate respectively in hands. Stiles motioned for Stella to go first and she smiled at the young Indian cashier, heaving the bag of ice onto the small counter. "$13.95."

Stella dug into her pocket, tugging out a handful of dollars and placing the pile into his awaiting hand. Stiles did the same with his treat and led her back to his car in silence. Once they were in and on their way back to the party the slightly older boy switched on the radio, the car filling with the opening line to _Hey Jude_.

"I love this song," Stella breathed, her lips twitching up into a warm smile and her eyes sliding shut as the drums kicked in.

"Me too," Stiles agreed, glancing over at the peaceful girl, secretly appreciating the way the glow of the dashboard lit up her skin.

"_And any time you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain..._" she quietly sang along, loving the way the music soothed her. She wished she could be in her room, the candles her only light as she read a book, her favourite Beatles song drowning out the constant buzz of people's thoughts.

Stiles hummed along under his breath, silently enjoying her singing voice.

"Thanks again for the ride," she said once they'd pulled up at the house. She picked up the bag of ice from where it sat at her feet, glancing up in surprise as her door was opened for her. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, smiling sheepishly at her grateful grin.

"It's not a problem, really."

They went their own ways after that, Stiles looking around for a morbid Scott and Stella making her way into the kitchen to unload the ice into the freezer box. "What took you so long?" Carry chirped from her left, startling the smaller teen. Stella didn't say anything in response, trying not to glare at her friend out of anger.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys. Thanks for all the reviews! For the one person (SeekingLove) that asked the story behind the title, it's a line from _Hey Jude_ which is my favourite Beatles song and one I mentioned in the last chapter. It's very special to me, and I think it's sort of the theme song to the story. Thanks for reading and I hope you like this one too.**

"Stella," a pleasantly surprised sounding voice spoke from her right. The young woman put down the shoes she was looking at and turned to acknowledge the person, shocked to see Stiles standing there with his hands tucked deep in his pockets, a sullen looking Scott a few feet behind him.

"Hey," she greeted them, crossing her arms and facing them properly. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're uh, we're actually going bowling," Stiles told her. She had to fight to listen properly, the sounds of the mall and people's thoughts nearly overpowering her. "Do, um... do you want to come?"

Stella was silent for a tense moment, sure she heard him wrong. "Bowling?" she clarified. "With you?"

"Only if you want," he added, already regretting opening his mouth at all.

"Well..." she began, focusing in on the boys thoughts. Stiles was hopeful, eager to solidify a friendship with the strange girl while Scott was more apprehensive, not knowing her even a little as much as his best friend did. But then his thoughts changed, he repeated to himself the promise he'd made to himself at the beginning of the summer. He was going to use the vacation to learn and grow; to become the best version of himself he could be. And he was going to get a tattoo. When she heard him think that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for her to tag along, she looked back at Stiles. "I'd love to."

She hadn't been bowling in years, since before her parents died. So when she found herself standing at the start of a lane holding a shiny purple bowling ball, she felt a wave of nostalgia and a hint of anxiety. Stiles was concentrating on tying his shoes and Scott was remembering the last time he went bowling with Alison.

"You do know how to bowl, don't you?" Stiles asked after she stood without moving for a full minute.

"Sort of," Stella replied, wincing at how unsure her voice sounded. "It's been a while."

"Do you want one of the ramps the toddlers use?" he asked, humour colouring his tone. She looked over her shoulder and shot him a playful glare. Taking a deep breath, she aimed as best as she could and threw the heavy ball down the lane, watching as it veered far to the left, only knocking down a couple of pins. She walked back over to the seats, waiting for the machine to spit her ball back out.

"So you work at the animal clinic, right Scott?" she asked, trying to start up a conversation.

The boy in question looked up from where he was staring forlornly at the floor. "Oh, yeah. I do."

"That must be great. I wish I had a job like that."

"Where do you work?" he asked politely.

"Just at a hairdressing salon over on O'Connor Street," she admitted, feeling somewhat foolish saying it out loud.

"Oh, do you wanna be a hairdresser after school?" Stiles pitched in as her ball came spinning out of the machine. She scooped it up and held it gingerly in her hands.

"No," she shrugged, staring down the slick wooden lane and throwing the ball at the pins at the end., turning around once the ball drifted into the gutter. "My mother wanted me to get a job and her friend owns the shop."

Scott nodded as he stood to collect his own neon orange ball, scooping it up with ease. "Do you cut the hair?" Stiles asked, offering her a sip of his coke.

She took it with a smile, sipping it up through the straw and handing it back. "Not really. I don't have the qualification. I sometimes do the buzz-cuts though, if they're under staffed."

"Hey," the short haired boy said, obviously getting a brilliant idea. "You could cut mine. It's due for a shave anyway."

Her eyes wandered up to his stubbly hair, she appraised it with a careful eye, then imagined what he might look like with it a bit longer. "You know, I think you should grow it out."

The taller boy froze, and she could hear his internal surprise.

_Oh man, what does that mean? Is that girl code for something? Or is she just saying I'd look good with it grown out. And does that mean she thinks it looks bad short?_

"Only if you want to though," she assured him before his thoughts could get too carried away.

"Yeah, I might," he nodded, sounding way calmer than he actually felt.

_I wish Alison was here_.

That was the tenth time Scott had thought that in the past hour, Stella just barely kept from rolling her eyes at his love-sickness as Stiles stepped up to bowl.

"What about you?" she asked, trying to keep him interested in the conversation so he wouldn't think she was rude or boring. "Veterinarian school anywhere in your future?"

"I've thought about it," he told her, thinking about how excited he'd been when he'd gotten his current job. "But now I'm not so sure."

She nodded, knowing he really meant now that he was a werewolf his future seemed so unclear.

_What if I have to join a pack? Will they even let me have a normal life?_

"I think you'll work it out one day," she said, secretly trying to comfort him. She kept her eyes on Stiles, watching as he knocked down all but one pin.

"What makes you say that?" he asked as Stiles walked back, picking up his coke and gesturing for Stella to step forward.

"I'm a firm believer that everything turns out alright in the end."

_Wow_.

Scott took her words to heart, leaning back in his chair and staring into space as he thought over what a good philosophy it was and how he really should apply it to his life. She was glad she could help. Picking up her shiny purple ball she threw it down the lane without much care, shocked when she knocked down almost half her pins. Stella pumped her arm in the air in triumph, letting out a yelp of joy.

_Crap, I saw some hipbone, _Stiles thought to himself, suddenly feeling very flushed. Stella ducked her head and picked up her ball again, readying to throw it and trying to ignore his eyes on her. He was just being a typical red-blooded American teenage boy. _Don't look again, don't look again._

She chuckled under her breath as she heaved the ball down the lane, getting a spare. "Nice," Scott complimented her as he stood to have his own turn. "So what classes are you taking next semester?"

"I don't tend to think that far ahead," she admitted, looking down at her wrist and realising she didn't have any hair ties with her. She dug into her bag and pulled out a pencil, knotting her hair around it so it stayed in place piled atop her head. She looked over at Stiles who was absently scrolling through his phone. "What about you?"

"Oh, me either," he told her. Scott wandered back down from the lane, motioning for Stiles to step up. "I guess I'll just pick the ones I know I can pass."

"Do you guys want some chips?" Scott asked, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

The pair nodded eagerly and he headed down to the counter to get them. Stella watched as Stiles stood and bowled his next turn, the ball immediately veering into the gutter. She smiled as his thoughts exploded with embarrassment and irritation. She leaned back in her chair and thought about how genuine Scott and Stiles were. She was used to snide comments about her looks and cruel thoughts unknowingly thrown at her. It was incredibly refreshing for her to be around people that didn't have unattainable expectations for her, just honestly enjoyed her company and liked her for who she was. She could see in Stiles thoughts that he thought she was interesting and even a little funny, and Scott was slowly warming to her too.

She wanted to help them in any way she could, and now she felt guilty for letting the whole kanima thing slide the past semester. She could have told them it was Matt all along, but that would have meant giving up her own secret. She'd never told anyone before and she didn't want to start now.

* * *

"Thanks for the ride," she told Stiles as he pulled up to her house, the engine rumbling deeply in the night. "I had a good time tonight."

"Don't mention it," he told her, turning in the seat to look at her. Scott did the same, offering her a kind smile. "Do you want my number?" Stella was silent, raising an eyebrow at the blurted question. She could hear him mentally slapping himself for his choice of words. However she couldn't ease his mind without revealing she could hear it, so instead she waited for him to elaborate. "I mean, so we can hang out again, maybe? All of us."

"Give me your phone," she chuckled, punching her number in when he handed it over. "Drop me a line if you guys wanna do something."

"Yep. Yes. Yeah. Totally. Will do," Stiles rambled, nodding violently. She listened as his thoughts raced while Scott just looked on with humour.

"See you later," she said, smiling at the boys one final time before hopping out and wandering up the drive. She twisted the handle only to find it locked. Not having her set of keys on her she knocked on the wood and waited until the door was pulled open by her foster mother.

"What time do you call this?"

Stella pursed her lips, frowning as she looked at her wrist watch. "Um, five o'clock?"

"I asked you to be home at four," she told her, a hand coming up to check that her pink hair rolls were still in place.

She hadn't said that to Stella when she'd left that morning, but she knew better than to argue with the woman. "Sorry."

"Well come on," Jenny told her, opening the door wider and waving her in. "Go get washed up. The Anderson's are coming over for a dinner party in less than an hour. I want you to wear that lovely white dress I bought you last summer, and make sure to curl your hair."

"Yes ma'am," Stella muttered, pushing passed and making her way to the stairs, already wishing she was somewhere else.


	4. Chapter 4

"What colour top would look better with my red mini skirt?" Carry asked, holding up a choice of white and orange.

Stella opened and closed her mouth, not sure what to say. Personally she liked the white, but Carry was thinking how much she preferred the orange. Stella was worried she'd be criticised if she said the wrong thing. That was always the problem; did she give her real opinion or tell them what they wanted to hear?

"The orange," she told the girl, giving in and choosing the option least likely to make her think any less of her.

"Oh my God, you're so right," she chirped, spinning around and holding the top up to her chest in the mirror, dropping the white one carelessly on the ground. The cashier shot a dirty look at the pair from her perch at the register, but made no move to pick it up. "So I was talking to Brittany last night, and she said that May had said that Chelsea told her that Alexander and Valerie totally boned on his couch while his parents were in India."

"Really?" Stella asked, feigning interest for her friends sake. It wasn't that she was boring, the two of them just had very different idea's about what intelligent conversation was.

"I know right?!" the taller girl enthused, stepping into the changing room and latching the door shut behind her. "You know what? I think I need a size smaller, can you go get me a seven?"

"Sure." Stella tucked her hands into the pockets of her favourite leather pants, strolling down the isle to the far left and searching for an identical top. She was so focused on looking for the shirt she didn't see the body in front of her, causing her to run into the hard form of a person before her. "_Oof_, sorry."

"Sorry."

She looked up in surprise, shocked to meet the caramel eyes of Stiles Stilinski. The boy looked back at her with equal surprise, blinking several times and opening and closing his mouth in an imitation of a fish. Her eyes wandered down to the lacy blue top he had held against his torso. She looked back up at him with a raised brow. "I don't know if that's your colour."

Stiles stared at her silently for a moment, uncomprehending. "Oh!" he finally snapped out of his initial shock. "Oh, no. My cousin, she's twelve. Or she will be, it's her birthday. Soon I mean, not today." She of course, already knew this from his earlier thoughts. However she had to act like it was brand new information and merely nodded her head.

"Well in that case I'm sure she'll love it," Stella told him, smiling good-naturedly.

He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a rather high pitched voice yelling, "_Stella!_" The pair turned to the source of the noise; an irritated looking Carry stomping down the isle towards them. "How long does it take to get another top?"

"Sorry," she told her friend, twisting her hands together sheepishly. "I got sidetracked."

_Jeez, she can be so stupid sometimes._

Stella winced as she overheard the thought, averting her gaze to her shoes. "It was my fault," Stiles spoke up, surprising the girls. Stella snapped her head back up with wide eyes. "I distracted her."

Carry appraised Stiles, her eyes moving from his tattered old blue converse to his ripped jeans and rumpled band shirt. Her brow raised in judgement and her lips pursed, clearly lass than pleased with what she saw. "And who are you?"

"This is Stiles," Stella jumped in, looking over at the boy with a small smile. Stiles returned it, leaning an arm against the shoe rack to his left only for it to tip over and clatter on the floor, Stiles stumbling along with it. "He's a friend."

_What a pathetic freak._

"I'm actually going to take off now," Stella snapped at the girl, angered by her rude inner commentary. "Stiles and I have plans."

"We do?" She shot him a pointed frown, rolling her eyes when he quickly amended his words with, "_We do!_"

"But you were going to help me pick out a dress for my aunt's wedding," Carry pouted, fluttering her eyelashes as though that would convince her.

"Sorry," Stella shrugged carelessly, grabbing Stiles' arm and tugging him in the direction of the door. "See you later."

_What a selfish bitch._

Stella flinched at the thought as it reached her, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Uh, you can let go now. I swear I'll still follow you," Stiles told her somewhat awkwardly, gently pulling his arm free from her grasp.

She stopped walking, turning to look at him sheepishly. "Right. Sorry."

"It's fine," he smiled, a hand reaching up to run over his short hair. "I don't know Carry all that well, but I hear she can be intense."

Stella couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips at his words, nodding her head in agreement. "Understatement of the year." She gestured for them to keep walking down the hall of the mall, "There's a great kids shop down here, they're way cheaper and have a bigger range. We can find something there for your cousin."

"Okay, yeah," he nodded, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and following her lead.

"Oh, can we stop at the juice bar?" she asked eagerly as they came across her favourite place to get drinks from.

"Sure, I love this place," he admitted, swerving to the left and standing in place at the register where an employee stood ready to take their order.

They stared at the board for a long moment, both deciding what they wanted. Stiles gestured for her to order first, and without realising it she made a terrible mistake. "I'll have a Strawberry Crush and an Orange Crush."

She pulled out the money to pay for her own but stopped when her new friend stepped into her line of vision, slamming down enough for both on the counter. "How'd you know?"

"Know what?" she asked, putting away her own money. She could hear his internal decision, there was no way he would let her pay; something about chivalry.

"That I wanted the Orange Crush."

She paused, eyes snapping open wide. She hadn't realised she'd read his mind, picking out the drink he wanted and ordering it for him. She never made those sort of mistakes. Being around him had distracted her too much, she'd forgotten all about keeping her secret. She had to come up with an answer fast, but her brain wasn't working. For the life of her she couldn't think of a believable excuse. "I... uh," she stuttered out, twisting her hands in front of her anxiously. "You told me."

"Did I?" he asked, frowning in confusion.

"Well you mumbled it," she lied, swallowing thickly and biting her lip. It wasn't a very good excuse, but it was the best she could do in so little time. She straightened her top, trying to appear calmer than she felt. "Under you breath. I heard you so I ordered."

His eyes stayed narrowed suspiciously before he blinked and his face cleared of expression. "Huh," he hummed, rubbing his short hair and ducking his head sheepishly. "I didn't realise."

She laughed half-heartedly, shoving her hands in her pockets and averting her gaze. Stiles stepped forward when the worker called out their orders, taking them and handing the pink one over to her. "Thanks," she told him gratefully. It was sweet how kind he was being.

_I wish Lydia would hang out with me like Stella._

She cringed as she heard him wish she were someone else, but quickly wiped her face of emotion, pretending, like always, that she heard nothing. Taking a long sip of her juice she headed for the other end of the mall, where the kid shop awaited. "So do you know what you want to get your cousin?"

"She's really into clothes, so I thought maybe a dress. She's a size eight, her mum said," he told her, idly spinning the straw as he walked. "Do you have any cousins or siblings?"

Stella shook her head, keeping her eyes facing forward. "Nah, both my parents were only children and they never had any other kids."

"Were?"

"They died. Car crash," she admitted, shrugging like it was no big deal. She didn't want to think about it, she knew if she opened that door it would be too hard to close.

"Oh. I'm sorry." She looked up in surprise, he wasn't pitying her. She heard him think of his own mother, who had passed away a number of years before. He debated telling her this, but ultimately decided not to for fear of making him sound like he was trying to make it about him. Instead he asked another question about her. "Who do you live with then?"

"Foster parents," Stella said, sending him a reassuring smile so he knew the topic wasn't upsetting her.

"What's that like?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She shrugged, sipping her drink slowly as she thought about how best to reply. "It's okay. They're nice enough. Kind of strict, but it's better than nothing. I don't like to complain, I'm just happy to be in a home, and not on the streets."

"You live with the Hurley's, right?" he asked after a moment of careful thought.

"Yeah," she nodded, smiling at an old lady that passed her slowly.

"I hear the husband's really cool."

"Yeah," she confirmed, a real smile lighting up her delicate features. "He's a riot." She paused as they came to a colourful entrance way, bright blue glowing letters announcing _Kidworld. _"This is it. They've got a real good selection of kids clothes up the back."

"Thanks," he told her sincerely, idly stroking the rim of his cup. She heard him internally debating whether or not to ask her to help him and decided to give him a hand.

"Did you still want company?" she asked, knowing he did.

"O-only if you're not busy," he insisted.

She smiled genuinely, rolling her eyes and leading the way into the store. "I'd be happy to help."

* * *

"And then Scott said-" Stiles cut himself off, laughing too hard to speak. "He said-" he tried again, only to shut his eyes and nearly choke he was laughing so violently. Stella wasn't in much better shape, leaning against the door of the Jeep they had to enter, clutching her stomach and wiping a tear out of her eye. "He said, if you couldn't handle midgets you should have stayed in the car!"

Stella tipped her head back, a peel of laughter leaving her lips.

_She's got a beautiful laugh._

Her mirth died down, his sweet thoughts sobering her. As usual she pretended she heard nothing, willing the blush growing on her face would go away. She could only hope he'd assume it was from laughing so hard. "I can't believe that happened," she chuckled, shaking her head at the boy.

"Neither could I!"

"Did you get out before the bouncer found you?"

"Only just in time," he told her. After another round of laughter the pair calmed down, a short silence, tense though not uncomfortable, filling the air. Stiles smacked his lips together and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Would you mind?" she asked carefully, not wanting to put him out in any way.

"Of course not. It's my pleasure," he replied, then blinked slowly asking himself why he had to put his foot in his mouth all the time.

Her lips twitched up into a smile at his thoughts and she was quick to assure him without doing it in a way that let him know she was reassuring him. "The pleasure's all mine."

Stiles was silent for a beat before he cracked a grin, rolling his eyes and strolling around the other side of the Jeep to climb in the driver's side. "What's your favourite movie?" he asked once she was settled into her own seat.

"Why?"

"I'm having a movie night with Scott next week and we thought we'd invite you. If you wanted to, that is," he told her, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front as he manoeuvred his way out of the parking lot.

"That sounds awesome," she replied, a warm feeling spreading in her gut. It felt nice to be included in something for once. The only time she saw her other friends was at school, she rarely got invited places with them.

"We pick a movie each then flip a coin to see which one we watch first," he explained. "So back to my previous question."

"It would have to be Labyrinth," she admitted, not expecting much of a reaction. She was surprised when his head snapped around to meet her gaze, his jaw dropping slightly in his own shock.

"No way," he murmured. "I _love _that movie."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, a mischievous grin spreading on her lips. She straightened her back and in her best impression of David Bowie said, "_You remind of the babe."_

Stiles threw his head back and laughed. It took a minute for him to calm himself but he finally managed to imitate the goblin and replied, "_What babe?"_

"_The babe with the power."_

"_What power?"_

"_The power of voodoo."_

"_Who do?"_

"_You do."_

"_Do what?" _

"_Remind me of the babe._"

They broke down laughing again, Stiles nearly choking on his own tongue he was giggling so hard.

_I haven't laughed this much in months._

Stella's cheeks warmed and her chuckles slowed. She turned her head so it seemed like she was gazing out the window instead of hiding her red cheeks. Stiles flicked the radio on and her favourite Coldplay song, 'Til Kingdom Come, sounded from the small speakers. She tapped along to the beat, watching the trees fly passed. It was peaceful there in the cab of the Jeep with a boy she was happy to call her friend for company.


	5. Chapter 5

Stella had never liked summer vacation all that much. All it meant was she had to spend more time at home with her neglectful foster mother while all her 'friends' made plans without her. She tended to avoid facebook, looking at all the photographs of her peers enjoying themselves without her did nothing but make her more depressed then usual.

That particular Wednesday night seemed plenty ordinary. Jenny had gone into work before the sun rose as usual and Will had slept in until a normal, human waking hour. He'd made himself and Stella pancakes with chocolate chips for breakfast, read the paper and watched the morning news before wishing her a good day and leaving for work with a smile. Stella had tidied her room, done the washing and mopped the hardwood floors all before noon. She was just settling down on her window seat to get a head start on her summer reading list when her phone buzzed loudly.

"Hello?" she answered, slipping the bookmark into the page she was currently on.

"Stella!" an excited voice poured from the speakers, a smile immediately spreading on her face.

"Stiles," she greeted her new friend, leaning her head back against the wall behind her and looking out over the trees. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The carnival!"

She stayed silent a moment longer, waiting for him to elaborate. When he said nothing, she rolled her eyes and prompted him gently. "Yes?"

"Have you been living under a rock?" he asked, his voice overflowing with mirth. "That carnival two towns over opened yesterday."

Now that he mentioned it she remembered catching some thoughts about it in passing. She's asked Carry if she wanted to go, but the girl had rambled on about germs and killer 'carnies', refusing to go. She'd given up and hadn't even thought to ask anyone else. "I may have heard of it."

"Well Scott and I are heading out there this afternoon. Are you in?"

Stella said nothing for a long moment, blinking in surprise. "Me?" she asked, clarifying he was asking what she thought he was. She was so unused to being asked to do things with people her own age.

"Who else?"

"I'd love to!" She instantly cringed, hoping she didn't sound too overeager and pathetic. "I mean, sounds cool."

"Awesome, pick you up in an hour?"

After she'd confirmed the details they hung up with promises to see each other soon. Stella immediately jumped into the shower, taking the opportunity to shave her legs and thoroughly wash her hair. She blow dried her light blonde hair once she was out, piling it on top of her head messily. She stumbled out of the bathroom, caught up in her towel. Once she was safely back in her room she checked the weather forecast. They were in for a hot night, so she tugged on some high-waisted shorts and a mid-drift top, slipping on her old combat boots and a handful of random bracelets. She hastily lined her eyes with charcoal eye-liner and threw on some mascara for extra affect, shoving her wallet and phone in her pockets.

She cursed loudly, however, when she couldn't find her contact lenses. After wasting a good ten minutes looking for them, she finally sighed in resignation and slipped on her large, square, ridiculously dorky looking glasses. She'd trip over everything if she didn't have them on, no matter how stupid they made her look. She was just securing a necklace clasp when a horn honked from outside. She grabbed a jacket just in case the forecast was wrong and dashed out the door, securely locking it behind her.

"Hello boys," she greeted as she jumped up into Stiles' monster of a Jeep.

"Aloha miss Rothstein," he greeted over his shoulder as he reversed out of the driveway. "Ready to ride some roller-coasters until we puke?"

"You bet," she chuckled, leaning over the front seat between the two boys to fiddle with the radio.

"Hey!" Scott yelped when her elbow got a little too close to his crotch for comfort.

"Safety first, Stella. Jeez," Stiles jested, leaning out of her way and trying to concentrate on the road rather than her cleavage. She turned the dial until they came across a good song, Good Charlotte's _Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous._

"I love this song," she muttered, sitting back properly in her seat and securing her seatbelt.

The ride from that point was mostly quiet, one of them making the odd comment on the music playing or something they passed. Scott's thoughts were swimming with Alison and how much he wished she were there while Stiles was mostly focused on the carnival and how they would spend their time there. He was thinking about how cool he'd look if he won Stella a huge teddy-bear, and his thoughts made her blush. She tried to tune them out, but she was so close it was practically impossible, not to mention she hadn't brought her ipod to listen to.

Once they arrived at the fairgrounds they each paid for a ticket, walking through the small gates and into the chaos of the carnival. "I've always loved these carnivals," Stiles mentioned offhandedly as they strolled through the grounds.

"Yeah?" Stella asked, watching as Scott stopped beside one of those games where you had to knock down the tower of pins. He wanted to win the giant stuffed toy dog to give to Alison when she got back. "What your favourite thing to do here?"

"The roller-coaster," he admitted, a mischievous grin curling his lips. Stella looked over her shoulder at the towering blue structure, pursing her lips in contemplation. "You game?"

She heard the challenge in his voice and looked back at him with a smirk. "I'm am if you are."

A dopey grin slid onto his face and he tugged at the back of Scott's jacket to get his attention, making the boy miss the target he was aiming for. "C'mon," he said, ignoring his friend's irritated glare. "We're going on the roller-coaster!" Stiles barely waited for Scott to use up all three turns and pick out a small consolation bunny rabbit before heading straight for the line to the ride. "It can go from zero to sixty in under two seconds," he read off the promotional sign on the right of the queue. "That's insane."

"And dangerous," she muttered, eyes scanning the crowd and locking onto the man operating the ride. "Oh great," she cried, crossing her arms and glaring across at the man. "The ride operator's high."

"He's what?" Scott asked, his eyes bulging.

"High," she repeated, looking at him like he was stupid. "You know? Baked, inebriated, stoned, buzzed, doped."

"I know what high means," he frowned at her. "Jeez, Stiles is sarcasm enough without you adding to it."

"Hey," Stiles interrupted indignantly, only to be ignored by the pair of them.

"How'd you know?" he asked, his features pulling into a confused frown.

"Uh, red eyes, pale skin, jittery. It's obvious," she said, hoping they bought it.

"Should we really be riding it if the guy with our lives in his hand is high?" he replied, seeming to gloss over her nearly fatal slip up.

"Come on man, where's your sense of adventure?" Stiles asked, clapping him on the shoulder firmly and grinning reassuringly. "We've done more risky stuff than this."

"Like what?" Stella asked innocently, secretly enjoying the way Stiles faltered and looked around unsure. She knew, of course, what he was referring to: taking on the alpha, capturing a kanima, going up against hunters. She'd been around them while it happened, listening to their angst ridden thoughts and watching everything through their eyes, refusing to interfere. She honestly thought it would be best; staying out of it. Now that she met Scott and Stiles, she realised how funny and kind and genuinely sweet they both were. If any other big bad's happened to stumble across Beacon Hills (knock on wood), she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle letting them face it alone.

"Nothing," Stiles stuttered, looking around for a topic change. "Oh look, the line's moving."

Stella rolled her eyes and wondered how they ever kept as many secrets as they did. Either the entire town was made up of moron's, or they were better at it than they appeared. It wasn't long before they were ushered onto the ride, exchanging anxious looks as the red-eyed operator strapped them into their seats.

"I'm not so sure this was a great idea," Scott murmured from his place on the edge of the row, Stiles in the middle and Stella beside him.

"No turning back now," Stiles grinned.

LINE BREAK

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Scott muttered, holding his stomach and trying to keep down his lunch.

Stella giggled, watching him stumble over his own feet. Stiles laughed too, mocking his friend gently. "You should go buy a water bottle," he suggested, patting him on the back.

"Okay."

"We're gonna ride the Ferris Wheel."

"We are?" Stella asked, coming to a stop and looking up at the glowing contraption. Night had slowly fallen and the entire park was lit up with lights. It was really quite beautiful.

"Well I want to," Stiles said. "But I don't want to risk going with Scott and having him blow chunks when we stop at the top. Come with me?"

"Sure," she shrugged, deciding it wouldn't do any harm. Scott wandered over towards the food vans while she and Stiles hurried over the the line for the safer looking ride. As they got there the operator was just securing the last pair into a seat before he noticed them and waved them over, waving them into a free seat and secured their guard in place. The first two minutes were quiet as they stared out over the fair, then Stiles decided to try and make conversation.

"So where are you from? Originally?"

"Originally?" she repeated, pulling her gaze from the horizon and looking over at him.

"Yeah, with your birth parents."

"Oh," she mumbled, turning back to the view and beginning her habit of awkwardly twisting her hands together. "I was born in Maine and we moved to L.A. When I was four. Lived there until I was thirteen and they died."

"Then you went straight to the Hurley's?" he asked. She was going to ask why he was asking so many invasive questions but heard his pure intentions. He was just curious about her, wanted them to learn more about each other so they could be better friends. After overhearing that she decided to give.

"No I, uh, I went to live with my Uncle."

"I thought you said your parents were only children?" he said, recalling their earlier conversation. She was surprised he remembered her saying that, something in her glowed at the realisation that he really listened when she talked.

"That's what I tell people," she admitted, avoiding looking down as they once again reached the top of the Ferris Wheel. "I lived with my uncle for about a month but he had what you might call a 'psychotic break'. He was sent to an asylum and I was put into the system. Two months later I was put with the Hurley's." She stopped talking, listening to his thoughts race as he wondered how to reply. "So that's my sob story," she said, trying to keep the smile on her face and the air light. "What about you?"

"Huh?" he asked, still reeling from her confession.

"Fairs fair. I told you mine now you tell me yours."

She, of course, already knew his. However the polite thing to do is not read people's minds and find out their dirty little secrets before they tell you. So, as usual, she pretended to know nothing, quietly inquiring verbally. "Well my mum died when I was younger, so now it's just me and my dad, who's actually the sheriff."

"Really?" she asked, feigning slight surprise. Her stomach dropped as they started falling down again and she looked up into the sky, wishing she could see the stars.

"Yep. That's about it, really," he shrugged, not adding the part about being best friends with a werewolf or helping take down a kanima.

"What about Lydia Martin?" she asked before she could stop herself, internally cursing herself for being so forward. Stiles paled, swallowing thickly and clearing his throat. His thoughts were screaming discomfort as he wondered how to get out of the situation. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"Why do you? Ask, I mean," he choked out, crossing his arms and swinging his legs.

"I just noticed that you seem to sort of have a... thing, for her," she winced, wondering if that sounded believable. Would a regular person notice without hearing thoughts?

_Oh God, am I that obvious?_

She clicked her tongue awkwardly, thankful when the Ferris Wheel stopped with them at the bottom, the operator letting them out of the seat. "You know what you said about your relationship with carry being, 'you give and she takes'?" he asked speeding up to catch her as they twisted their way through the crowd towards where Scott was waiting.

"Yeah," she replied apprehensively, coming to a stop a few feet from their werewolf friend who was leaning over the table of a stall of home-made cakes.

"Well that's kind of a perfect way to describe Lydia and I," he muttered, kicking at the ground sheepishly.

She didn't really know how to reply to that, so she simply crossed her arms, looking down at her own feet. "Oh," she mumbled, rolling her lips into her mouth thoughtfully. She didn't know much about Lydia Martin except that she was so smart that Stella barely understood the techno-babble in her thoughts half the time and that she was totally, completely, consumingly in love with Jackson Whittemore. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets.

She wanted to be mad at Lydia for not recognising what a great guy Stiles really was, but she understood the redhead was just blinded by her love of Jackson. She hoped, for her friend's sake, that now that Jackson was moving away she would come to see Stiles for the catch he truly was. Something in Stella's chest clenched at that thought, but she brushed it off. She tried not to think about it too closely. She'd much rather stay in everyone else's mind than her own.


	6. Chapter 6

_Stella whimpered, biting her lip to keep the sounds to a minimum and trying to stop herself from shaking so violently. Her arm ached as she slipped her phone from her front pocket, taking deep breaths as she flipped it open and dialled 911._

"_911, what's your emergency?" a toneless woman's voice asked her._

"_My uncle," she whispered, hearing something crash in the kitchen and trying not to jump and knock anything off the counter above her. "He's trying to hurt me. I'm hiding but he's going to find me."_

"_What's your address?" the lady asked seriously. Stella heard the tapping of a keyboard through the speakers. A door at the end of the hall slammed and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, praying to whatever God would listen that she would get out of this house alive._

"_331 Sunflower Crescent," she hissed, curling further into herself as though it would help. Her back ached from the awkward position she was forced in but she paid it no mind. "Please hurry."_

"_Stella!" her Uncle's deep, booming voice called from the hall. A tear leaked out of her eye. Most days she hated her ability. Reading minds was no walk in the park. The majority of the time she overheard things nobody should ever hear. On this particular day, however, she was grateful. Without her ability she never would have known her Uncle's intentions. She wouldn't have had time to get away, to escape his violent outrage. So, for the first time in her short life, she reluctantly thanked the powers that be for her gift. "Stella, where are you?" the old man singsonged. _

_Stella swallowed, her throat thick with emotion, and she wished. She wished her parents hadn't died. She wished her Uncle wasn't a lunatic. She wished she'd stayed late at school. She wished the police would hurry up and arrive already. "Ma'am?" the toneless voice asked, echoing out of the tiny phone speakers. "Ma'am, are you alright? Police have been dispatched to your location. Ma'am?"_

_The wall in the next room thumped loudly, and she knew he had punched it. She started saying the Spanish alphabet in her head, anything to try and keep herself from reading his thoughts. They were full of hate and anger and blood-lust; he wanted to kill her and play it off as an accident so he got her inheritance. Being in his mind, the mind of a would-be murderer, was torture. Especially when she was the object of his violent musings. More and more images of herself being stabbed or choked or beaten entered her mind, flowing from his mind to hers like water in a pipe._

_It could have been minutes or hours, but soon enough she held her breath as footsteps approached the cupboard she was curled in. This was it, she knew it was over. Thoughts of her family, her real family, floated through her head. Her heart was racing and she couldn't have breathed if she'd wanted to. "Stella," he sang, knife tapping on the porcelain of the sink above her. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."_

_He stopped right in front of her hiding place, and to Stella it was like time stood still. She thought she was done for until the faint sound of sirens reached her. Her entire body sagged with relief, and she made the mistake of allowing herself a tired sigh._

_He heard._

_Before she knew it the cupboard door was yanked open and she had to shut her eyes against the sudden light shined in her eyes. Her phone, having been clutched tightly in her right hand, fell from her grasp, shattering against the tiles of the bathroom floor as she was tugged from the small space by her pigtails. _

_Her scream bounced around the room until a knife tip was held to her jugular. All sound cut off and faded into a whimper. There was a loud banging on the front door and the faint yell of an officer to open up. Stella opened her mouth to scream but stopped, not daring to when the blade of the knife dug into her skin._

_Her Uncle's thoughts raced, debating what to do. Would he be able to slit her throat and still be able to play it off as a burglary? Or would he simply be murdering his niece only to receive nothing in the way of her inheritance? He waited too long to make a decision, for moments later there was a crash as the front door was kicked in. The frantic yells of policemen filled the house as they ran inside, spreading out. Some began to run up the stairs and he panicked, grabbing her by the arm and sliding out the bathroom door, standing off against the awaiting police with guns at the ready._

_Everyone's thoughts were screaming with urgency and panic and anger, she was losing her grip on her own mind. It was too easy to get caught up in everyone else's thoughts. The only thing keeping her grounded in reality was the blade being held on her neck. "Drop the knife and put your hands up!" the closest cop shouted, hand steady as he aimed his gun in the pairs general direction._

"_Oh yeah?" her Uncle yelled, squeezing her tighter. "Or what?" The man repeated his order, taking a step towards them. "Come any closer and I'll slit her throat!"_

_Stella was less worried about the knife at her neck and more concerned about heart failure as the most important organ in her body worked overtime in her panicked state. As opposed to earlier, when she could barely get a breath in, she was now breathing so fast and shallow her lungs were starting to ache. She wished she could say her Uncle didn't really plan on hurting her, that he really didn't have the guts to dig the knife into her skin and kill her. The reality was that he was every bit prepared to murder her, right there in front of all those witnesses. _

_She could never tell anybody how close he got to doing it. The small cut he managed to make healed over completely, only leaving a barely visible scar just below her jaw line. Before he did any real damage, the closest policeman made a risky move and took a shot. Luckily for everyone involved, the young cop was a fantastic shot. He got her insane Uncle right in his exposed shoulder. The knife fell from his hand in shock and he let go of his niece, stumbling back into the wall and holding his bleeding wound in agony. Without anybody holding her up, Stella fell to the floor as shock flooded her body. It would be a long time before she said so much as another word._

"Stella!"

Stella blinked back to reality, realising she'd been staring down at her sandwich and lost in her worst memories for the better part of her twenty minute lunch break. "Yeah?" she looked up at Anna, the owner of the hair salon and her boss.

"Your break ended five minutes ago," she said, rolling her eyes and slipping back through the doorway that led out of the alley and into the back of the shop. Stella sighed to herself, wrapping her uneaten food back up and shoving it in her bag. She stood and stretched, already exhausted. All she wanted to do was go home and take a bubble bath, blasting her music to drown out the neighbours thoughts.

With a final deep breath she marched back into the salon, shoving her bag under the desk in the back and straightening her hair, painting on a layer of lip gloss and heading out into the main area. She picked up the broom and started sweeping like usual, only to be stopped by a hand on the shoulder. "Actually Stella, the Sheriff is in for his monthly cut. You wanna take him? Linda and I are swamped."

Stella looked over to the small waiting area and waved at the Sheriff, who was sipping a coke and studying the banners on the far wall. "Sure thing."

"You're a doll," she praised, floating over to a young girl getting extensions put in and letting Stella handle the job herself.

"Afternoon Sheriff," she greeted the man, gesturing for him to take a seat in the chair by the window. "How've you been since I last saw you?"

Once a month the Sheriff came in for a basic cut, and several months back Anna had started to let her take up the job. They were familiar to each other now, he always stopped to say hello if they saw each other outside of the salon. Stella appreciated his kindness. She had to admit she was slightly nervous to be around him now that she'd made friends with his son, she didn't want to do anything that might make the Sheriff think she was a bad influence on Stiles. She didn't think she was really, but in the past some parents of her would-be friends were wary about their children becoming close with a foster kid. There was a pretty intense social stigma around foster kids, even with her ability to read thoughts she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. "Pretty good Stella. How are Mr and Mrs Hurley?"

"Good," she told him, picking up a comb and straightening up his slightly shaggy looking locks. "Will got a promotion at work, so he's been keeping busy."

"That's good," he nodded, settling down in his seat and ducking sheepishly when she tapped him warningly for moving. They continued on in relative silence, Stella carefully snipping away at his hair, him not moving again but to take sips of his coke. She was just getting the electric shaver ready to tidy up his sideburns when the door burst open and her mind instantly clicked with what was becoming very familiar territory.

"Dad, Stacy said you'd be here. You forgot your lunch," Stiles exclaimed, striding over towards the pair, stopping short when he caught sight of Stella and her deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Stella! What are you doing here?"

"I work here," she said obviously, raising her eyebrows at him, the initial shock at seeing him evaporating.

"You two know each other?" the Sheriff asked politely, looking between the pair curiously.

"_You two _know each other?" Stiles countered, looking equally confused.

"I cut your dad's hair once a month," she told her friend, rolling her eyes as she heard him worrying over whether they talked about him. "And I'm in the same year as your son, Sheriff."

She looked down at the man in surprise when his thoughts coloured with recognition. "Oh! _You're_ the Stella he's been talking so much about recently," he said, making Stiles flush from the neck up. "I didn't make the connection until just now."

She looked up at Stiles and couldn't help but feel shy. She'd never really had a close friend before, let alone one that was a boy. "You talk about me?"

"No," he denied quickly, putting his father's lunch on the counter and rubbing his clammy hands off on his jeans. "Yes," he amended after seeing the Sheriff's look. "I mean, just the normal friend-like amount. I talk about Scott too, all the time in fact. Just the other day I was saying how it's really quite astounding he can still be so attractive with such an uneven jaw..."

"Stiles," his dad cut him off, not wanting to see his son embarrass himself further. "Thank you for the lunch."

He cleared his throat and nodded, not meeting the laughing eyes of Stella as she watched on. He looked around, grappling for something else to say. Unfortunately for the Sheriff, his eyes landed on the coke in his hands. "Dad! What have I told you about coke? Remember that documentary we watched? Coca Cola can dissolve an entire chicken in less than twenty-four hours! And you're still willing to put that in your body?"

"You drink coke all the time!" he argued, frowning at his well-meaning son.

"I don't have the metabolism and cholesterol of a fifty year old man."

"I'm not fifty," he grumbled, but handed over the can nonetheless.

Stella placed a hand on his head gently and ducked down to see the area she was shaving. "I'm just gonna finish this off quickly, then you can leave with your son, Sheriff," she told him kindly, turning on the shaver.

"Take your time."

It only took her a few moments to clean him up before she undid his apron and hung it up on the hook nearby. "All done," she announced happily, motioning father and son over to the register. Stiles had his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he followed his dad, looking around idly. "That'll be fifteen dollars," she said, ringing him up on the machine.

He pulled out his wallet and started flicking through it for the money. "You know, you should come over to ours for dinner one night soon," he suggested, pulling out a twenty and motioning for her to keep the change. "I'd love to have one of Stile's friends over who isn't Scott," he joked, getting a laugh out of Stella and an irritated grumble out of Stiles. "Are you free tomorrow night?"

She looked between the two men, listening carefully to the younger one's thoughts. He was embarrassed by his dad's brashness but wasn't totally opposed to her coming over. So once she had his internal blessing she nodded, admitting to herself she was excited at the prospect of spending more time with her new friend. "Sure, that sounds lovely."

"Great!" he smiled, clapping his hands together and picking up his packaged lunch, "We'll see you 'round seven?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she grinned back, watching him wave and head out, leaving the two teens standing awkwardly at the register. "Is that okay?" she asked, wondering whether he would be honest about his slight reservations or simply do the polite thing and say yes. "That I'm coming over for dinner, I mean. He didn't exactly ask you first."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head hurriedly. "Of course it's fine. No, it'll be fun."

"Should I bring anything or..."

"Just your smile," he said, then paused in horror.

_I can't believe I just said that. What the actual hell, Stilinski? Could you be any weirder?_

Stella his her smile behind her hand, trying not to laugh. Laughing wouldn't make him feel any better. "Well, I'd better go," he said, gesturing to the door. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Bye," she smiled, waving at him. She was beginning to get excited about the event. Her friends never invited her around to their house for dinner. There was only one problem. What would she wear?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey guys, just letting you know I'm going to New Zealand for two weeks on Monday, so I probably won't post until after that. I haven't written any of the next 10 or so chapters, but I have started writing up season 3A. It's going to be really good, I can't wait until we get there. Until then, enjoy this chapter :)**

Stella stopped walking, looking down at the piece of paper she'd written the Stilinski address on and back up to the house. She instinctively reached inside the home with her mind, easily picking out the two very distinct voices of Stiles and his dad. Nodding to herself with a false confidence, she slipped the paper into her pocket and walked up the path to the door.

Stiles was in the kitchen, stirring the stir-fry in the pan and humming to himself while he worked while the Sheriff was in his study, going over some last minute paperwork before he could relax for the night. Taking a deep breath of the warm summer air, she knocked before she could lose the courage, stepping back and cradling the basket she held gingerly. "I'll get it!" Stiles yelled up at his father, racing to the door. Stella pulled away from his mind as best she could, focusing on acting normal and nowhere near as nervous as she really felt. "Stella!" Stiles greeted, ginning lopsidedly once he'd thrown open the door. "Come in," he waved her inside, closing the door behind her and gesturing for her to follow him through to the kitchen. "Dinner's only five minutes away. What ya got there?"

She was confused for a moment until she remembered the basket in her hands and looked down to it sheepishly, beginning to feel foolish for bringing it in the first place. "Mrs Hurley told me not to show up empty handed," she admitted, placing the basket gently on the counter and toying with the edge of the tea-towel covering the treats inside. "So I made these."

Stiles tilted his head with curiosity a lifted the blue fabric to peak underneath. His eyes widened and his lips gave way to a wide grin. "Cupcakes?" he asked excitedly, glancing between her and the desserts as though unsure which to stare at the longest.

"Yeah," she nodded, crossing her arms and leaning against the fridge self-consciously. "I wasn't sure which you liked better, so I made chocolate _and _vanilla, half of which I left plain and the other half I added strawberry icing. I also noticed you have your dad on a bit of a health kick, so the ones with the blue wrapping are gluten-and-sugar-free."

Stiles blinked, having received a lot of information very quickly. Again he grinned, this time as wide as ever, showing his rows of perfect white teeth. "You bake?"

Stella ducked her head again, shrugging her shoulders and playing with the edge of her shirt for something to do with her hands. "Yeah," she admitted. "Mostly when I'm nervous or stressed."

"Why were you nervous?" he asked quietly, studying the cupcakes with hungry eyes.

"I've never really done... _this_ before," she said, staring at a photo of an older lady hanging on the far wall. She supposed it must have been Stiles' mother and wanted to mention how beautiful she was, but opted to stay quiet, not wanting to make things awkward.

"What do you mean?" he laughed, finally pulling himself away from the cupcakes and moving over to the pan on the stove, going back to stirring it with the wooden spoon. "You've never been to a friend's house for dinner?"

He asked like the idea was preposterous, and Stella was embarrassed to have to confirm his words. "Not really." At his incredulous look she hastened to elaborate. "I mean, I went to a sleepover once when I was eight, but they made me watch a scary movie and I had to leave early."

Stiles didn't laugh like she'd expected him too, instead he just stared down into the food he was cooking seriously and Stella couldn't have kept out of his mind even if she had wanted to.

_I don't get why she doesn't have more friends. The ones she has aren't even nice to her. What's wrong with people these days? Stella's great, anyone would be lucky to be her friend. _I'm_ lucky to be her friend._

Stella kept her expression carefully schooled, the last thing she wanted to do was give him reason to suspect her of mind-reading. She swallowed thickly, touched in a way that was rare for her. Usually when people thought about you, they thought snide, negative, mean thoughts. It was heart-warming for her to hear something so genuinely kind. Stiles didn't have any ulterior motives, what you saw really was what you got; he wasn't even a little bit fake.

She was so distracted with her praising thoughts of her friend that she nearly missed his hand sneaking into the basket. She caught him just before he could grab a cupcake, slapping his hand warningly. "They're for after dinner."

Stiles pouted childishly, making Stella give a bubbly laugh. They didn't even realise the Sheriff had entered the room until he cleared his throat to get their attention. "Stella, great to see you again."

"You as well, Sheriff," she said, smiling at the older man.

"Look dad!" Stiles called, gesturing to the basket wildly with the sauce covered spoon. "Stella baked us cupcakes."

"I thought we could have them for dessert," she told him sheepishly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her best jeans. She breathed in through her nose, almost moaning at the smell of the sweet chilli chicken stir-fry that Stiles was slowly starting to dish out into bowls. "It smells delicious, Stiles."

The boy flushed at the compliment, keeping his eyes on the task at hand, taking care not to spill any. Once they were all settled down at the table Stella felt awkward, wondering what they could possibly talk about. Luckily the Sheriff started talking straight away, taking the pressure off the nervous girl. "So Stella," he began after swallowing his first mouthful. "What do you want to do after school? Hairdressing?"

She looked up, thinking about how to word her answer. "Uh, no. I just work there for the extra money," she told him, taking another bite and waiting to finish it before speaking. "My foster mother wants me to go into law, like her. She tried to get me an internship at her firm, but they only take college kids."

The sheriff was silent, chewing thoughtfully and watching her as though expecting her to continue. She didn't know what else to say, but Stiles saved her from embarrassing herself. "Stella's at the top of our biology class," he said, smiling up at her through a mouthful of food. "English too."

"Well done," his father nodded, smiling at her. The dinner continued with basic chatter. The Sheriff told Stella the story of when Stiles was younger and used to write on the walls in permanent marker, much to Stella's amusement and Stiles' embarrassment. They chatted about the summer reading list that Stella was already halfway through and that Stiles hadn't even started. They talked about things as simple as the weather, but Stella still found herself having a better time than she would at home. Dinner's there consisted of long, drawn out silences, only ever broken by Jenny asking to be passed the salt. She didn't believe in talk around the dinner table, so her and Will had no choice but to keep quiet.

Once they were done the Sheriff picked up the plates, ignoring Stella's offer to help, and brought the basket of cupcakes to the table. "The one with blue wrappings are the healthy ones, yeah?" Stiles confirmed, pulling two out and handing them too his dad.

"Healthy?" the Sheriff asked, eyeing the treats doubtfully.

"Gluten-and-sugar-free, Sir," Stella told him, smiling openly at him hesitant frown. "I promise, they taste just as good as the sugar-filled ones."

At that moment Stiles bit into a vanilla one topped with the strawberry icing, letting out a low groan that sounded so sensual it made Stella a little hot and bothered. It should be illegal to made such noises, she thought in annoyance. "Dad, seriously," he said around his food. "These are heavenly. Just try it."

Stella pulled out a plain chocolate one and bit into it daintily, taking care not to get any crumbs on her best white shirt. "Wow," the Sheriff said after tasting one. She looked up sheepishly and smiled nervously, even though she could hear his praising thoughts. "These really are good. What other kinds of things do you bake?"

"Cakes and cupcakes mostly," she told him, taking another bite of her treat. "But my favourite things to bake are cookies."

"Chocolate chip?" Stiles asked, sitting up straight and watching her in excitement.

"You bet. Even rocky-road cookies," she said, laughing at his animated expression.

_I think I'm in love._

Stella immediately stopped giggling, flushing from the neck up at hearing his thought. "Can we take these into the lounge?" he asked his dad, unaware of how 'deer-in-the-headlights' Stella felt.

"Sure," he replied, standing and walking over to start the dishes, ignoring Stella's offer of help.

The two teens made their way through to the lounge room, and Stella was surprised by how homey it felt. The lounge at the Hurley's house was unwelcoming and sterile, with black leather couches, white tiles and a clear glass coffee table free of any clutter.

The Stilinski lounge was warm and welcoming. They had a fireplace with an older TV set up above it. There was a big red couch with a scruffy old brown blanket thrown over the top. The carpet was shaggy and cream coloured, soft under her feet. Stella thought that she'd much rather live there than at her own home. Stiles knelt down at the coffee table, pushing the remotes and magazines on it to the side, placing down the basket of cupcakes and pulling out an old chess set from underneath it.

"You up for a game?" he asked with a smile.

"Sure."

He set it up for them, letting her be white. She made her move then watched him think about his.

"So what do you want to do when you leave school?" he asked, moving a pawn forward a square.

"Sorry?" she asked, confused by the question. She thought they'd already covered this earlier in the night.

"You said your foster mum wants you to do law. What do _you_ want?"

Stella was quiet. She hadn't ever really thought about it like that before. It had just been the way it was, ever since she moved in with the Hurley's; she would leave high school and go to law school. She was angry at herself for losing such an important part of her identity. What you wanted to do in life was such a large part of who you were as a person. She thought back to when her parents were still alive, about what she saw in her future back then. She thought of the beautiful garden she used to maintain, about the flowers she loved so much. "I think, if I could be anything, I'd want to be a florist."

"Really?" he said, sounding much more interested than anyone else would have been.

"Yeah," she confirmed, not being able to help the smile that spread on her lips at the thought. Before I was put in the system, back when my parents were alive, I'd been planning on getting a dual degree in floristry and business. That way I could open my own flower shop," she divulged to him, not thinking clearly as she reached into his mind, pulled out his next few moves and cut him off before he got a chance. "Checkmate."

"What?!" Stiles exclaimed, hands fisting in his hair as he looked over the board. "That was only six moves." She laughed, enjoying his astounded expression. "I demand a rematch."

"Your funeral," she chuckled, resetting the pieces to begin again. This time it took only four moves for her to win. Usually she wouldn't do something so dangerous, but she figured Stiles, while still being very intelligent, wouldn't put two and two together and jump to mind reading. They played a third time and, having too much fun, she didn't let him win, instead letting him go for ten moves before announcing, very happily, "Checkmate."

"Have you had professional lessons, or something?" he asked exasperatedly, picking up a chocolate cupcake and biting into it as consolation for losing three times in a row.

"I'm just good at reading people," she replied, smirking to herself.

"Remind me never to play poker with you," he mumbled, jokingly. She couldn't tell him just how true that statement was. "Best out of five?"

"You're on."

As he was setting up the board, she glanced up at the TV, everything in her freezing. Blindly she grasped around for the remote. It took a moment, but finally her hand found the smooth black plastic she was searching for and she turned off the mute.

"_-authorities are giving no statements at this time, but sources say forty-five year old Jeffrey Rothstein has been released from prison three years early on a technicality found by detectives re-examining the case. His original sentence was fifteen years for the attempted murder of his then thirteen year old niece. Protesters lined the streets today as he left the courthouse-"_

Stella felt sick, she wanted to throw up. She didn't know what was happening. How could he have possibly been released? "I have to go," she heard herself tell Stiles. It felt like she wasn't even in her body, just watching everything happen from afar.

"Are you okay?" he asked, jumping up and following her to the door.

"I'm fine," she lied, trying to keep her voice steady. "Tell your dad I said thank you for having me, alright? I had a great time."

"Yeah, we should do it again, you know, some other time," he told her, nodding but still confused by her actions.

"Bye Stiles," she said, hoping it wouldn't be the last time she got the chance to see him.


	8. Chapter 8

Stella woke up slowly and reluctantly, blinking up at her ceiling where the sun cast colourful shapes through her glass wind-chime hanging by the window. She sighed, closing her eyes again and pulling the blanket up over her head, revelling in the false sense of security being cocooned in her sheets gave her. She didn't want to leave the bed. Leaving the bed meant facing the world, facing reality.

A reality where her Uncle was free.

She thought back to that night two years ago when she was so certain she was going to die by his hand. She thought about the pure terror she felt at reading his bloodthirsty thoughts, that of her own flesh and blood. Stella could only squeeze her eyes shut tight and try to banish the dark memories far from her mind. For something to distract her she focused in on her foster father's thought were he was cooking bacon downstairs.

_I hope it's not overdone, I know Jenny hates it when it's burnt._

She sighed, feeling herself calm down. She, not for the first time, felt more comfortable in someone else's head, rather than her own.

Eventually she knew she had to get up, so with a resigned groan she left the safety of her bed, shuffling over to her closet and pulling on an old pair of jeans, deciding to forego a shower. She changed out of her old _Ramones _top and instead pulled on a plain white button up, throwing her light blonde hair up into a messy pile on top of her head and smearing some eye-liner on to make herself look a little less dead.

After brushing her teeth and slipping on some old sneakers, she headed for the door. "I'm going out," she yelled over her shoulder to Will, picking up her favourite book from the coffee table and slipping it into her bag.

"But I'm making breakfast!"

"I'll eat out!"

Once she was safely out of the house she immediately headed down the road and to the left, where only a block away her favourite diner resided. She slipped in her headphones as she walked, turning the volume up all the way to block out stray thoughts from passers by. She hummed along to _Florence and the Machine_, bopping her head along with the beat.

She couldn't believe it had been a whole month and a half since school had ended for the summer. She thought about how in that short time she'd made such a good friend out of Stiles. To be honest, she might even go as far as to say he was becoming the best friend she'd ever had. It wasn't so much anything he said or did that gave her such a high opinion of him, but rather how kind and genuine his thoughts were. She felt like she'd been looking for somebody that real for a long time.

Speaking of the devil, Stella was surprised when she looked up from her feet only to be met with a chest as hard as cement. "Derek!" she yelled in shock, reeling back several steps.

The alpha wolf looked down at her with his usual hard glare, sizing her up. She nervously tugged out her headphones, giving the wolf her full attention. "Do I know you?"

She floundered for a while, staring up at him in panic. She couldn't tell him the truth; that she'd heard all about him from Scott and Stiles' thoughts. All she could do was play it off like it was nothing. "No. Nope. Nuh-uh. No, I don't think so," she said awkwardly, side stepping him only to once again be surprised by the sight of Scott and the young better she knew to be Isaac standing behind him.

"Stella?" Scott asked, frowning confusedly at her.

"Scott," she said lightly, laughing anxiously as she looked between the werewolves. "Wow, you like this diner too? What a coincidence."

"They make really good waffles," Isaac chipped in, smirking down at her. Not for the first time she wished she was taller.

"That they do Isaac," she said, then stopped as she remembered she wasn't supposed to know him either. She could have hit herself. How did she even survive? She used to be so good at keeping her secret. She supposed she just had so much on her mind, what with her Uncle and all, that things were starting to slip. Isaac tilted his head curiously, eyeing her suspiciously. "We had History together," she said, trying to take the attention off her. "Nice scarf. It really suits you."

"Thanks?" he replied, looking at Scott with raised eyebrows.

"We don't have time for this," Derek growled from behind her and she tried not to jump. "Scott, you know where we'll be."

"Right," Scott nodded. "See you."

Derek, without so much as a goodbye to Stella, grabbed Isaac by the arm and dragged him around the corner out of their sight. "Charming," she muttered, crossing her arms and looking back at Scott.

"So, how do you know Derek?" he asked after a pregnant pause, both of them trying to come up with something to fill the silence.

"Oh, um..." she drifted off, struggling to come up with a more believable lie. "Stiles told me about him."

Scott's eyes narrowed and Stella resisted the urge to step back. She knew the last thing Scott wanted to do was hurt her, suspicious or not. "What did he say, exactly?"

She opened her mouth, mortified when nothing came out. She wished she were better on her feet. "Not much," she said, playing it off as nothing, trying to divert his focus. "You know I really should get going. It was nice seeing you Scott."

She dashed passed him, bypassing the diner and heading across the street, deciding she wasn't really hungry after all.

* * *

"Hello?" Stella answered her phone, taking off her shoes with one hand and holding the mobile to her ear with the other.

"Stella, hey it's me," Stiles said, sounding a little off. Immediately Stella was on edge. She didn't know how she knew, but something was wrong.

"Stiles? Is everything okay?" she asked carefully, frowning down at the shoe rack Jenny insisted on everyone using.

"Not really," he admitted and Stella's heart began to beat faster with worry. "Can you meet me? We need to talk."

"Of course," she said, turning back to the door and sliding her shoes back on. She'd just gotten home, she'd spent the whole day at the park, finishing off the second last book on her reading list. The sun was just going down, but it was a weekend so Jenny wouldn't mind if she were out just a little while longer. "Where should I meet you?"

"I'm at the vet clinic where Scott works. Can you be here in ten?"

"Absolutely," she replied, nodding even though he couldn't see her. "And Stiles? Everything's going to be alright."

"I hope so," he said, sounding glum. The dial tone sounded before she could say anything else and she ended the call with a scowl.

"Will!" she yelled to her foster dad, who pocked his head around the corner with a grin.

"Yeah kiddo?"

"Can I have a ride? I'm meeting one of my friends at the animal clinic."

"Sure," he said, putting down the car magazine he was flicking through and picking up his keys, following her into the garage. "So this 'friend' wouldn't happen to be the allusive Stiles, would it by any chance?" he asked once they were headed down the road.

"Yeah," she told him, clearing her throat and hoping he wouldn't look any further into it.

He nodded, seeing that she didn't want to talk about it. He was quiet for a long minute before bringing up another sensitive topic. "So we got a call from your social worker today," he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Oh yeah?" she asked like she didn't already know what he was going to say. "What did she want?"

"She rang to make sure we knew about your Uncle."

"Come on Will," she sighed, turning in the chair to look at him properly. "We talked about this last night. I know he's out, but I have a restraining order against him. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Not talking about it doesn't just make the situation go away, Stella," he told her wisely, making her grumbled under her breath at him in return. "You know, Jenny and I were thinking that maybe you could go see someone."

Her stare turned into a harsh glare at his words and she immediately shook her head. "I'm not going to see a shrink, Will."

"It could be beneficial," he argued. "You never know. Don't deny you could use the help with coping."

"God, you sound just like her," Stella murmured bitterly.

"Like who?"

"Your know-it-all wife." Will took a deep breath, stopping himself from replying with something he'd regret. Before he could come up with another, better worded retort, they'd pulled up at the clinic and she was already halfway out of the car. Seeing Stile's Jeep she breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to her foster dad before she shut the door. "Don't worry about picking me up. I'll get a ride home with my friends."

With that she slammed the door, squaring her shoulders and making her way to the entrance. The sign on the front door said 'open', so she pushed it open and made her way inside. The lights were out, only the one in the back room creating a soft glow. "Hello?" she called, reaching her mind out and touching the people inside.

_Oh God, oh God, she's here._

_Time to get to the bottom of this._

_Please let this turn out okay._

Stella frowned, confused by the anxious tone of the building's occupants. "Hello?" she called again, this time getting a reply.

"Hello Stella," the vet said as he flicked on the lights. Stella was starting to get seriously worried, especially as she saw Stiles and Scott poke their heads around the corner. She hadn't met the vet before. Jenny wouldn't let Stella get any pets. All she'd wanted last Christmas was a puppy, instead she got a copy of the dictionary and a new stationary set.

"Hi," she replied, watching the three of them cautiously. "What's going on?"

"We just want your help with something. Come through here, if you don't mind," he told her gently. His had a trustworthy face and a solid mind, so Stella nodded, if only because she trusted Stiles. The boy wouldn't look her in the eyes.

_Crap. What if it works? What if she can't get in?_

None of their thoughts made any sense. She was picking up on something. Apparently if she couldn't bass the barrier she was bad? She didn't understand what all of it meant, but she walked up to the barrier nonetheless and, showing off false confidence, pushed it open. It swung back with no resistance and she walked passed it like she didn't know she was being tested.

_I don't understand. Maybe I was wrong._

She looked up at Scott with confusion, tilting her head as she wished she could ask what that meant.

_Haha, I knew she couldn't be evil!_

Stiles thought made her smile, which looked out of place as she followed the doctor through to the back room. She gave Stiles a confused look as she passed and he grinned at her, obviously happy she'd passed whatever test they'd set. "What am I doing here guys?"

"I wondered if you could do me a favour," the vet, whose name she picked out of Scott's head as 'Deaton', said.

"Sure," she replied carefully, frowning suspiciously at the small group that watched her like a hawk.

"Hold out your hand," he instructed. She got the feeling it was another test. They weren't thinking about what it was exactly. Something about werewolves and kanimas, apparently. So without reservation, she held out her hand and watch him sprinkle something into her palm.

It did nothing at first, but slowly it began to grow hot in her hand. She looked up in alarm as it started to burn her skin. "Ah!" she shouted. "What the hell?" She brushed off the substance, scratching at her now red, raw and itchy skin. She hissed through her teeth at the pain. "What in God's name was that-"

She wasn't too sure what they hit her with, but it was cold and hard and would leave one hell of a bruise when she woke up.


	9. Chapter 9

Stella blinked awake very slowly. At first she thought she fallen asleep and that the last twenty-four hours was some kind of twisted dream, but when she opened her eyed to the harsh white lights of the clinic staring down at her with her hands and feet tied to a chair, she started to accept that it may have been her reality. "What the..." she pulled at the ropes but they wouldn't budge. She strained her eyes to look passed the lights glaring in her face and was met with the sight of Deaton standing with his arms crossed, staring at her like didn't trust her not to jump up and bite his arm off. Scott was leaning against the table, glaring at her with an equal amount of distrust and Stiles was sat on a chair in the far corner, his head in his hands and his shoulders sagged. "Did you... did you knock me _out_?" she yelled incredulously. She felt sick, like she was going to throw up.

"What are you?" Deaton asked, his voice flat and threatening.

"Are you serious right now? We're not in a James Bond movie." She opened her mouth to say something more but her head lulled forward before she could. She shook it violently, watching the room spin. "Did you _dose _me with something?"

"Just something to keep you calm," the doctor assured her.

"Tell us what you are and what you're doing in Beacon Hills," Scott said, glaring at her with glowing yellow eyes.

"I live here?" she replied sarcastically. Nobody looked amused, Stiles didn't even look up. Things were starting to go double. She swayed again in her seat, trying to blink away the extra Scott's in front of her.

_I can't believe I trusted her._

"You can trust me Stiles!" she called over to him desperately, making him snap his head up in shock. "I never lied to you."

"What are you talking about?"

_Maybe I gave her too much, she looks a little green._

_How did she know I felt that way?_

_She looks like she's gonna be sick._

_So now she's psychic too._

_Maybe she's a hunter, that sort of makes sense._

_I can't believe I thought she was cute._

"Shut up!" she yelled, arms straining against the ropes as she ached to cover her ears. "Stop talking."

"Nobody's talking, Stella."

"What's wrong with her Doc?"

"I think she's having a bad reaction to the sedative I gave her."

"Well help her!"

The voices began to fade in and out, just like her vision did. She lost the ability to distinguish between spoken words and thoughts. Everything was just one big blur.

_What kind of monster is she?_

"I'm not a monster!" she yelled, black dots appearing in her vision.

_What's going on?_

_I don't understand._

_I can't believe she's been lying this whole time._

"I've never lied to any of you." Her speech was slow and slurred, each time she blinked her eyelids only got heavier.

"We have to give her a chance to explain herself," she thought the doctor said, his voice deeper than the boys.

"Please," she breathed, head lulling. "I'm sorry. Please."

Then everything went dark again.

* * *

When Stella woke up again the sedative had worn off, and she was _pissed_. She felt betrayed and abandoned. She hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't like she chose to read minds, she couldn't stop even if she wanted to. She felt like a tiger in a cage; contained in a small space with too much energy. With a jolt she realised Stiles had fallen asleep in the chair he was in before, his arms cushioning his head as he slumped over the cool metal table.

Since she was till tied to the chair, she searched the place for signs of life by stretching her mind to it's limits, finding everyone in close enough range for her to pick up on.

The Doctor was in the front room doing some paperwork and Scott had left for the night. Stiles was dreaming about peanut butter and Deaton was focused on his work, and without them actively thinking about it she had no way of knowing how much they knew. Had they figured her out? Did they know what she could do? She knew, in theory, that if she could trust anyone it was Scott and Stiles. However, when it came down to it, she had to trust her instincts. And her instincts were screaming at her to get out and run.

She looked down at her ties wrists. It was just normal rope done in simple knots, so she tugged her hands as hard as she could, loosening them little by little. They obviously hadn't been expecting her to wake up, so she had to wonder why Stiles had even stayed in the first place. The rough rope was starting to leave angry red marks on her skin, but she had no choice but to keep going. Finally, after much pain, she had loosened the ropes on the right enough to slip her hand through. She nearly yelped with joy but her common sense stopped her before she could wake Stiles.

She hastily undid her other hand, sighing with relief as she freed herself, rubbing her aching wrists.

She slowly stood from the chair, wincing as it creaked under her shifting weight. She paused beside a slumbering Stiles, frowning down at his scrunched up face. His peaceful dream about his favourite spread had turned sour, leaving him with images of an evil looking version of herself. Her chest clenched painfully and she shut her eyes to calm the stinging of tears. She took a deep breath, steadying herself and only finding the urge to run was even greater now that she knew she'd hurt one of the best friends she'd ever had.

Spying a stray piece of pipe by the door she tiptoed over to it, silently lifting it off the ground. She didn't want to hurt anyone, but who knew what their plans for her were. Would they harm her in some way? Torture her for information? Or would they experiment on her, split open her skull and root around inside her head to find out how she did what she did? Even worse, they could simply call her crazy and lock her inside an asylum. If there was one thing that terrified her most, it was the thought of being locked away and labelled as crazy. She'd spent too long thinking that's what she was; that everything was just in her head.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she edged towards the door. Peaking around the corner and trying not to grimace at the brightness of the lights. Deaton was leaned over the counter, scribbling down something in a notebook. His thoughts were on the kitten he was currently treating for heart worm, but as she stepped around the corner as quietly as she could his thoughts immediately snapped to her. "What are you doing, Stella?"

"I'm leaving," she replied with as much force as she could muster, which wasn't much, and idly wondered how he knew she was there. He thought something about being an emissary – whatever that was. Her voice shook embarrassingly and she straightened her shoulders to counteract the insecurity. "You can't stop me."

He turned around to look at her, holding his arms up in surrender and watching her carefully with dark, knowing eyes. "We just want to help you, Stella."

"Yeah?" she bit out, mortified that her eyes watered again. She rationalised that she'd been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours, so she was entitled to a few tears. "That's why you drugged me and tied me up? You were helping me?"

"We don't know what you are, or what your intentions were," he told her slowly, like he was talking to a child. "We had to protect ourselves."

"What's going on?" Stiles asked, appearing in the doorway. Stella jumped away from him, swinging the pipe in his direction. He held his hands up, mimicking Deaton's stance. "Stella."

"Stay back!" she snapped, edging away from them and towards the door.

"Stella, just stop for a second and listen," he told her firmly, dropping the pretence of being soft and understanding. He was still hurt by her deception, she understood that. It didn't make his anger sting any less.

She panicked, she didn't know how to handle the situation. So, once again, she went with her instinct. In a single move she threw the pipe in the direction of the doctor, using the distraction to her advantage and high-tailing it out the door. The little bell jingled as it slammed shut behind her but she didn't hesitate, booking it down the alley and around the corner.

She headed home, keeping to the back streets so Stiles was less likely to find her in his car. She figured she'd pack a bag, steal some cash from Jenny and then catch a bus to LA. From there she could find a bus that would go to Washington State and from there, well she hadn't really figured out where she'd go from there.

Once she made it home all she could do was hope they'd assume she was too smart to go back to her house, but she couldn't leave without getting a bag of her most precious items. Opening a bag she shoved in a handful of underwear, a shirt and her favourite red jeans. Then she swiped her mum's jewellery from the vanity and her dad's guitar picks from her bedside table.

Her breathing was sharp and shallow as she fought to keep calm. Panic was starting to overwhelm her but she knew she had to keep it at bay, she didn't have the time to have a panic attack. She needed to get out of there. Out of the house, out of the street, out of the town.

She hitched the backpack up on her shoulder and ducked into the main bedroom, moving over to the shelf full of books and yanking out the third one on the fifth row: '_Business for Dummies_'. She flicked through the pages until she found the hoard of cash her foster mother kept hidden there. There was a good $10,000 in those pages, and Stella knew she would need every cent.

Before the book was fully slipped back in its place, Stella was rendered frozen by the sound of someone knocking on the front door. She turned, mind reaching out and snapping into place with the familiar warmth of Stiles. Her breath caught in her throat, she didn't know how to react. "Stella!" his voice drifted up to her through her open window. "Stella open the door!"

Anger surged through her. The fear took a back seat as outrage and annoyance roared within her. The duffel bag slipped from her fingers, dropping to the ground with a dull _thud._ She practically stomped from the room, the stairs creaking as she trampled down them, swinging around the end rail and all but tearing the door open, a harsh glare firmly secured on her face. "What?" she spat, angry at everything; him, Scott, Deaton, herself for thinking she could ever have close relationships with anyone, ever. "What could you possibly want now?" He said nothing, arms braced on the door frame, panting like he'd run all the way from the clinic, though she could spy his Jeep parked haphazardly on the grass. "Where's your better half?"

"Scott?" he asked, face scrunched up like he didn't understand the insult. "I didn't bring him. It's just me."

She was silent for a long time, watching him through suspicious, narrowed eyes. After a while he got the hint that she was waiting for him to talk. She listened as he internally scrambled for something to say.

"I'm sorry." Stella blinked, not having been expecting that. He echoed her surprise, not knowing he was going to say that before it had come out. Whatever her face portrayed gave him courage and he took a deep breath, blurting everything all out at once. "I'm sorry we knocked you out and tied you up, we were just being cautious. Scott's known there was something off about you this whole time, and the mountain ash thing just confirmed it. If you knew the year we've had..." he trailed off, shifting eyes focusing on her. "Well, that's just it, isn't it? You _do_ know the year we've had; you can read our thoughts."

"What are you talking about?" she asked immediately, it was a reflex to deny everything.

"Oh come on Stella," he sighed, running a tired hand down his face. "You were saying all kinds of things while you were out of it, things you could only know if you were in our heads. The jig is up!"

She levelled him with a flat look, not appreciating the term. "Why does it matter?" she asked, a knot forming in her throat. "I wasn't hurting anyone." Stiles tried to figure out a good reply but she cut him off before he could speak. "I liked it here. I was content. And now I have to leave."

"What?" he cried, lurching forwards and startling Stella, making her take a step back cautiously. "Why do you have to leave?"

"I can't stay," she replied sadly, the anger draining out of her, being replaced with sorrow and bitterness. "They'll lock me up, experiment on me!"

"We won't tell anyone!" he exclaimed instantly, taking another step forwards. She eyed him warily, not believing him. "Read my mind!" he insisted, tapping his temple pointedly. "Tell me I'm lying."

She frowned, giving in and scanning his thoughts for any hint of deception. He was caught between thinking about how honest he was being and appreciating how her eyes shone in the sun. He shook his head, focusing back on the task at hand.

_Please Stella, you have to believe me. I would never tell anyone that could harm you._

She caved, feeling exhausted from the entire ordeal and just wanting to crawl under her covers and turn up her music to an ear-bleeding volume so she couldn't hear anybody's thoughts, let alone her own. "Whatever Stiles," she sighed, shoulders drooping tiredly.

"What-whatever?" he stammered confusedly, tapping on his leg anxiously. "So, so are we okay?"

"Sure," she told him flatly, not sure whether it was the truth or not. She had no idea how she felt, she was numb to it all.

Stiles didn't look convinced, but to be honest Stella couldn't find it in her to care. "Stella?"

"See you Stiles," she mumbled, not looking him in the eyes, shutting the door gently before he could reply.


End file.
